


The Ages of the Earth

by easyasbreathing



Series: My Blood with Fire to Burn [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angsty Schmoop, Aro/Ace Character, Communication, Discussion of Abortion, Dwarves of Erebor - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Genderbending, Genderswap, Infertility, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Pregnancy, Rule 63, Smut, Thranduil is such a diva, Unplanned Pregnancy, fem!Gimli, mom friend, protective!Legolas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2018-10-23 16:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easyasbreathing/pseuds/easyasbreathing
Summary: The end of the War of the Ring was, for Gimli and Legolas, only the beginning. Sequel to My Blood With Fire to Burn   -ch 6 up 7/19





	1. One

Birnir unrolled the map of the cavern system, weighing down the corners with chunks of quartz laying on the table. Gimli leaned over the map, taking in the new caverns and the surveyor’s marks that had been scribbled in since last week.

“The limestone in cavern seven is much more brittle than anticipated,” Birnir said, gesturing. “We’ll need supports here, here, and here, at the least. The salt deposits are proving deep enough to mine, but Alvi had some questions about the quality and would like to requisition more chemics.”

Gimli nodded, noting down the needed supplies in messy Cirth runes as Birnir spoke. After six months in Aglarond, she had a very long list of supplies the engineers would need to make real progress. As it was, careful surveys still hadn’t found the outermost limits of the natural cave system, and the engineering corps was anxious to begin proper excavations. 

The dwarves were based in the caverns behind Helm’s Deep, the very caverns that Gimli had escorted the fleeing women of Rohan through some ten years earlier. Then, the caves had been full of frightened humans, hiding from an orc horde- now, some seventy-five dwarves had set up a temporary settlement there.

Gimli’s ‘office’ was really just some tables and chairs set up near the tunnel that led deeper into the mountain. Technically she was the administrator, though she occasionally managed some surveying. It was simultaneously exhilarating and tedious. 

“Did Alvi say specifically what chemics he needed, or did he just want some testing kits?”

Birnir didn’t answer. Gimli looked up, brow furrowing-

Suddenly strong arms seized Gimli about the waist, lifting her up into a spin. Gimli did not shriek, but she did make an undignified, high-pitched sound. 

“Gimli!” crowed a familiar voice, and as soon as Gimli’s feet were back on the stone she whirled and delivered a backhanded smack to the speaker’s shoulder.

“Oi! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she scolded.

Legolas grinned unrepentantly. “Yes, dear,” he said cheerfully, and Gimli rolled her eyes, then grabbed him by the dusty collar of his tunic and pulled him down for a kiss.

“I’ll just be going,” Birnir said. Gimli and Legolas ignored him.

Gimli stepped back to give her husband a thorough looking-over. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I wasn’t expecting you for another week, at least.” 

Legolas shrugged. His clothes were slightly dusty, but otherwise he looked immaculate as always. “I missed you,” he said simply. “Ithilien is marvelous, but it could never compete with you.”

“I’m sure,” Gimli said, smiling. “Come, you probably want a bath and a meal.”

“Fresh clothes would do,” Legolas replied, giving her a significant look. “Your quarters haven’t been moved, have they?”

Gimli took Legolas by the hand and led him into the dwarven camp. While they were under stone, they’d set up tents for privacy’s sake. Her own was off by itself, as befitting a noble.

Once inside, Gimli helped Legolas undo the multitude of leather straps holding his weapons. Middle Earth may be at peace, but no one went travelling unarmed unless they fancied suicide by highwayman.

Divested of his gear, Legolas caught Gimli’s chin, pressing both his hands to her bearded cheeks. “I did miss you,” he said seriously. “Three months never seemed so long before.”

“Soppy elf,” Gimli said, but she couldn’t help smiling. “I missed you too.”

Legolas pulled Gimli into a soft kiss, which quickly grew heated, and there was no more speaking for some time.

Passion momentarily spent, the couple spooned together on the cot amongst furs and heavy blankets. Truthfully, they had not been separated that long, but Gimli still luxuriated in having Legolas close at hand once more, the way his skin felt against her own. His nose was pressed to the back of her neck, his arm heavy across her waist.

“We’re still leaving for Erebor in a fortnight,” Gimli said sleepily. “Now you have time to help me collate reports on geologic strata.”

Legolas groaned theatrically against Gimli’s neck. “I’ve changed my mind, I’m going back,” he grumbled. Gimli elbowed him, eliciting a startled laugh. 

“All right, I’ll wrangle your fearsome paperwork,” Legolas said, “but remember you promised we’d spend at least a week at Eryn Lasgalen.”

Now it was Gimli’s turn to grumble. “They always dress me like an elf and you know those gowns don’t suit me. I’m too bloody short for a gown with no waistline.”

Legolas nipped at her shoulder. “Then I’ll have to keep you out of them as much as possible.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“Ah-ha!” Legolas pulled Gimli onto her back and straddled her hips, leering at her. “I knew it,” he said, and took her hands and pinned them up over her head. His hair fell forward, tickling Gimli’s face. “You just keep me around for the sex.”

“You’ve caught me,” Gimli said dryly. “All of it was a complicated ruse to get you into my bed.” Gimli smirked a little and wriggled underneath Legolas, whose eyes instantly went dark, pupils blown wide.

“At least you have admitted your wickedness,” he said, though his voice was going deep and breathy. 

“I am terribly wicked,” Gimli agreed. She arched her back, and Legolas let out a low laugh before kissing her, slow and filthy enough to make Gimli’s toes curl. Discussion of paperwork was officially shelved.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The fortnight passed quickly, Gimli wading through absurd amounts of paperwork and Legolas helping where he could, which wasn’t much. As the day of their departure neared, Gimli became increasingly antsy about leaving Aglarond. This was her project, it felt wrong to leave it in another’s hands, even hands so capable as Birnir’s. 

“I’ve got all the requisition forms in this bundle here,” Gimli said, patting the oilcloth-wrapped block, “along with mineral profiles and strength tests. This one is maps and excavation proposals and all the other reports.” The two bundles went into a leather satchel, which she handed to Birnir to strap to the packhorse. The animal was already bearing their travelling gear- gone were the days when Gimli would submit to crossing the breadth of Middle Earth without so much as a bedroll. Their kit was fairly light, but it was still a five-week journey to Mirkwood and she had packed accordingly.

“Are you sure there’s enough supplies for the winter?” she asked, fully aware she was fretting and not able to stop. Legolas, leaning against the doorframe of the makeshift stable, sighed.

“Yes, Gimli,” Birnir said patiently. “Further, we are on schedule to finish surveying and begin mining salt well before you return in the spring. Nothing has changed from the final report last night.”

“You’re certain.” Gimli checked the horse’s tack for the third time. Aglarond was a project eight years in the making, and leaving it behind during such a delicate stage—even to report back to the financiers and recruit more miners—was upsetting. 

“Gimli, _meleth nin _,” Legolas said mildly. “We are expected at Edoras tomorrow afternoon. We need to be on our way.”__

__“I know,” Gimli said irritably. Legolas raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Gimli felt the rebuke nonetheless and scowled._ _

__“Everything is taken care of,” Birnir said stoutly._ _

__Finally Gimli agreed to leave, and perched on the back of Legolas’ latest mount, a bay mare named Freya. The packhorse, a chestnut gelding called Théod, followed—without a lead, thanks to Legolas’ elvish wiles—as they made their way out into the sunlight._ _

__Outside the mountain, it was early autumn, the air pleasantly cool. Gimli rested her cheek against Legolas’ back and sighed. Aglarond would get along fine for the winter, and she would have more than a month with solely her husband’s company._ _

__

__*~*~*~*~*~*_ _

__

__Three days out from Edoras, Gimli insisted on walking._ _

__“Are you becoming saddle-sore?” Legolas asked, eyebrows raised as he dismounted to stand beside Gimli._ _

__“I want on my own feet,” Gimli said, trying valiantly not to snap and not entirely succeeding._ _

__Honestly, she was becoming uncomfortable, but not from riding the horse. She was becoming—to put it delicately—irregular. There was a faint pressure in her pelvis, and being pressed against Legolas’ backside—no matter how pretty it was—was making it almost unbearable. She was hoping that walking would get things moving, so to speak. (To be perfectly blunt, she hadn’t taken a shit since Aglarond.)_ _

__“All right,” Legolas finally agreed. He spoke quietly to the horses for a moment, who nickered back at him like they really understood. Gimli started walking._ _

__They were still on the moors of Rohan, and would be for some time; there was little in the way of scenery. No road, either; they relied on the sun and stars to show the way._ _

__Legolas walked at her side, silent but for the faint brush of grass against his leggings. Even in these relatively tame lands he was alert for danger, gaze flicking ceaselessly across the landscape._ _

__Eventually, of course, Legolas broke the silence. “I understand that Aglarond is important to you,” he said slowly, “but even so, I would not believe that leaving for a single season would make you so… tetchy.”_ _

__Gimli smiled despite herself. Legolas had slowly become more dwarvish in his mannerism over the years, and it never failed to amuse her. “Aye,” she admitted grudgingly. “I’m trying, really, but for once I’d rather we weren’t travelling.”_ _

__“Yet if we had not undertaken this journey, you would still be doing paperwork,” Legolas said slyly._ _

__“Ugh, paperwork.”_ _

__“Indeed.”_ _

__After that, the quiet was much more companionable, and after an hour of steady plodding Gimli managed to relieve herself behind a boulder (while Legolas politely pretended he had no idea what she was doing). She felt better then, though not entirely- there was still a faint feeling of pressure there. Gimli shrugged it off as a residual effect, and submitted to riding the horse once more._ _

__

__*~*~*~*~*~*_ _

__

__Gimli fed twigs into the fire. It was small—there was little deadfall along the river—but ought to be enough to cook a meal. She had plenty of green wood for cooking with, which helped a little._ _

__She’d got a good bed of coals going and was heating a pot of water over them by the time Legolas returned. He was wet to his knees, carrying three fat trout speared on an arrow and a satchel of edible plants that hung by his hip. The fish scales shimmered in the evening light, reflecting red and orange from the sunset and the fire. He sat and took out a knife to clean the fish._ _

__“Fish such as these would be a delicacy in Eryn Lasgalen,” Legolas said absently as he worked. “Rarely do we get some fine specimens in the river there.”_ _

__“Mm hmm,” Gimli replied absently. She already was not looking forward to Mirkwood, he didn’t have to bring it up. She watched sleepily as Legolas cleaned the trout—tossing the guts into the fire—and cut the meat into chunks, which went into the stewpot along with wild onions and roots._ _

__Gimli was quite hungry—she’d been nibbling on lembas while Legolas gathered the food—but as the fish guts started sizzling and burning and the smell wafted to her, mixed with the scent of the fire and the nearby river, her stomach turned. She swallowed hard, her mouth turning sour._ _

__“Gimli?”_ _

__Gimli scrambled to her feet. “Jus’ a mo’-“ she forced out, and then positively ran away from the campsite._ _

__Some twenty feet away, Gimli dropped her head between her knees, sucking deep breaths of fish-free air. An instant later Legolas practically skidded to his knees beside her and began running his hand up and down her spine._ _

__“Gimli, whatever is wrong?”_ _

__Gimli flapped a hand at him, struggling to keep from upchucking into the grass. Eventually the urge passed and she sat with a dull thump, shaking faintly._ _

__“I’m fine now,” she said, and then sank into Legolas’ arms. She wasn’t going to be sick but faint nausea lingered, making her feel weak and out of sorts._ _

__“I thought dwarves do not fall ill,” Legolas said, obviously worried. Gimli pressed her face into his neck and shrugged awkwardly._ _

__“The burning guts turned my stomach, is all,” Gimli mumbled against his skin. She was starting to feel embarrassed, now. It was a total overreaction, getting sick over burnt fish. “Bury ‘em next time, yeah?”_ _

__“Of course,” Legolas said, sounding faintly bemused. “I can find some herbs, make you a tea or maybe a broth-“_ _

__“Don’t be silly,” Gimli interrupted, pulling back to give him a stern look. “I’m fine. I’ll eat the bloody soup. I don’t need to be fussed over.”_ _

__“Even so, you may wish to stay here until I have dealt with the original problem.”_ _

__“Sure.”_ _

__Gimli watched from a distance as Legolas removed the by-then-unrecognizable lump of fish flesh from the fire, disposing of it in the river, and then stirred the coals about. Eventually he beckoned her, and she went back to sit by the fire, now mercifully stink-free._ _

__The light had faded to deep twilight by the time they ate. The stew was somewhat tasteless but otherwise decent. Afterwards Gimli tipped the empty iron pot upside-down over the coals to let the remnants burn off and left the bowls for the morning. She was too bloody tired to do the washing up._ _

__The horses had meandered closer as the light faded, and Gimli listened to their quiet snuffling as she wriggled into her bedroll. The weather being fine, they’d foregone the tent. Gimli quickly settled, and watched as Legolas, silhouetted in the dim light, prepared for rest._ _

__“Perhaps we should have a rest day tomorrow,” he said, stripping off his boots. “It’s been three weeks, taking a day would not go amiss.”_ _

__“You’re trying to fuss over me,” Gimli observed. Legolas looked up at her, not a bit ashamed of being caught out._ _

__“You have never gotten ill like that before,” he said lowly. “I do not like it. And I really would like a rest and a proper bath,” he added with a small smile. He stripped off his remaining leathers, and then clambered into the oversized bedroll with Gimli. She immediately curled into his chest, her head tucked under his chin and one leg thrown across him. They quickly settled with the ease of long familiarity, just as the last light of dusk vanished and true night set in._ _

__“I do wish you wouldn’t fight my taking care of you so hard,” Legolas murmured into her hair. Gimli huffed, but she was tired and not up for arguing. She pressed her face into Legolas’ skin and dropped off to sleep listening to the soft whisper of her husband’s breath._ _

__

__*~*~*_ _

__

__Gimli felt much improved after a full night’s sleep. Legolas, of course, had slept little if at all, and had long before been up and dressed. He was tending the campfire when Gimli rolled out of her blanket-nest, a pot of porridge already bubbling amongst the coals. Legolas pressed a tin cup into her hands as she sat beside him._ _

__“Mint,” he said at Gimli’s questioning glance. At least it wasn’t chamomile. Gimli blew across the surface of the greenish liquid—the cup was hot in her hand—and took a sip. How Legolas managed to make herbal teas taste like anything other than wet grass, she’d never known, but the tea was quite good, fresh and minty. It warmed her against the chill morning air, and she huddled around it, pointedly ignoring Legolas’ amused glance._ _

__They spent the morning checking over the baggage and the horses, oiling leathers and airing out blankets. Legolas didn’t hover, but Gimli could tell he wanted to- always looking at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice, a faint worry line appearing between his eyebrows._ _

__By midday, it had warmed enough that Gimli was willing to brave the chilly river for a bath. She took her kit down to the river, which had almost no bank. She had to sit on a rock to strip without getting her clothes wet. She left them to warm in the sun and finally waded out into the water, hissing at the cold._ _

__She’d finished her hair when she heard Legolas’ voice behind her. “I seem to remember seeing this before,” he said. Gimli turned to see him smiling, relaxed and loose like he hadn’t been since the incident the night before. The light reflecting off the river made his hair shine brightly against the green of the willows._ _

__“I won’t throw anything at you this time,” Gimli said, pleased to see Legolas looking happy again. “Actually, wash my back?”_ _

__Legolas shucked off his clothing, leaving it hanging haphazardly from willow-branches as he waded out towards Gimli, who stood hip-deep in the gentle current. He accepted the cloth she gave him and, shifting her hair over her shoulder, gently ran it over the freckled skin of her shoulder blades. Then it traced the line of her spine as Legolas bent to press a feather-light kiss to her shoulder. His hair fell forward to tickle her skin and she shivered._ _

__Legolas straightened. “Are you cold?” he asked, concerned again. Gimli looked back at him over her shoulder, eyebrows quirked._ _

__“I’m naked, in a river, in autumn. Why would I possibly be cold?”_ _

__“Always such a sass,” Legolas mumbled. Gimli let out a snort of laughter. Legolas roughly scrubbed the cloth over the rest of her back, then grasped her wrist._ _

__“Let’s go warm you up.”_ _

__“Oh?” Gimli asked, turning to leer at the elf. Legolas’ response was to lift her bodily—she yelped—and then carry her, dripping, bridal-style back to the shore._ _

__“You’ve been ill, no dallying in the water,” Legolas said briskly, though there was a slight curl to his mouth._ _

__“I’m fine, you daft old nag,” Gimli retorted. They reached the bank and Legolas went straight past the piles of clothes and through the willow thickets. Gimli made grabby-hands at the mess. “Oi—my things—“_ _

__“I’ll fetch them later.” Legolas ignored Gimli’s huff and carried her straight back to the campsite. He set her, still wet and now covered in goose-bumps, in the tangled mess of the bedroll. Kneeling, he took one of the woolen blankets and wrapped it around her, making certain to pull her wet hair free so it was away from her skin._ _

__“You missed your calling as a nurse-maid,” Gimli grumbled, though with no real heat. The blanket did feel good, even if was a bit scratchy. Legolas just smiled at her._ _

__“Tea? I have some mint still, or I thought I saw some chamomile-“_ _

__“Bugger the chamomile,” Gimli interrupted. Legolas grinned unrepentantly, eyes amused; he knew she hated it._ _

__“Get in here and warm me up yourself, silly elf.”_ _

__Legolas obligingly wriggled into the blanket, pulling her back against his chest and wrapping his long arms around her; his bare skin was warm against hers. They sank into the bedroll, spooned together, Gimli’s head resting on Legolas’ bicep._ _

__“Is this better?” Legolas asked softly, his breath hot on Gimli’s neck; little shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature ran up her spine._ _

__“Getting there.”_ _

__“Mm. I shall have to try harder.” Her cupped her breast in one callused hand, his thumb catching on the barbell piercing in her nipple; Gimli’s breath caught as Legolas pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to her neck. Gimli shifted to press back against him and felt his half-hard cock sliding along the crease between her thigh and her arse._ _

__“Naughty nurse maid,” Gimli muttered absently, and Legolas laughed, retaliating by pinching her nipple and making her yelp._ _

__“Hush, or I shall make you warm yourself, and feed you chamomile tea.”_ _

__“Tyrant.”_ _

__His hand slid down her body, tickling slightly, and he took her leg and draped it backwards over his hip. Gimli let out an appreciate sigh as found her clit with experienced fingers, tracing light circles as he applied his teeth to her shoulder._ _

__Gimli let herself forget about everything but Legolas. There were solidly pressed together from head to knees, his hand tapping clever rhythms on her clit and his cock hot and hard against her backside. She made an encouraging noise._ _

__Legolas paused his administrations, but only to line up with her entrance; he pressed in slowly, slowly enough to drive Gimli ‘round the twist as he went back to teasing her clit and nibbling at her ear. In this position, she could barely move; Legolas had full control, with her pinned against his chest as he thrust into her from behind._ _

__With Legolas moving inside her, hot and slick, Gimli went over the edge almost embarrassingly fast. She clenched around him as she arched her back, all but howling._ _

__“ _Mê garnen, melethril _,” Legolas purred against her skin. Gimli hummed in agreement.___ _

____“On your back,” she said, breathing heavily. She sat up as Legolas complied, eyes dark as he watched her._ _ _ _

____The blanket was tossed aside, superfluous. Gimli felt as if she were warmed by a forge from within. She straddled Legolas, taking him in again; his face went soft with pleasure as she began to move. He wrapped both hands around her thighs, almost hard enough to bruise. His face was flushed, eyes dilated enough that the blue had almost disappeared; he arched up into her, letting out a low moan._ _ _ _

____Gimli could feel herself tightening, heading for a second peak. Legolas’ breath was coming harsher, his body tensing up underneath her. She plucked at Legolas’ hand and he took the silent cue, releasing her thigh and instead pressing his thumb against her clit, flicking it in time with his increasingly erratic thrusts._ _ _ _

____Suddenly Legolas gave a choked gasp, throwing his head back as he spilled into her. This was enough to set Gimli off too, into a second climax that cut through her with sudden sharpness, shivering through her whole body._ _ _ _

____Gimli rode him through the aftershocks, until everything seemed to slow to a natural stop. Legolas ran a soothing palm up her reddened thigh._ _ _ _

____“Warm now?” he asked, mouth quirked wryly._ _ _ _

____“I am much improved,” Gimli agreed, and leaned forward to press a light kiss to Legolas’ lips. She slid to one side, suddenly tired, and curled up against him. Legolas grabbed the woolen blanket from wherever she’d tossed it and tucked it around them._ _ _ _

____Sated, Gimli drifted off to sleep._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mê garnen, melethril: Well done, lover


	2. In The Elven King's Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimli and Legolas make it to Mirkwood and have to endure.... family dinner.

That day, filled with lazy lovemaking under the autumn sky, roughly marked the midpoint of their journey. From there it was back to the endless days of riding northward through a landscape sliding slowly into winter, though winter came closer the farther north they went. Many of the trees of the Greenwood were bare by the time they arrived.

They had hardly entered the wood when an elven escort appeared, apparently from nowhere. Gimli was sure she would never get over having a group of elven warriors defer to her as royalty. Legolas’ bearing switched from Travelling Hunter to Returning Favored Son, the shift only visible to Gimli herself, who smiled at the affected haughtiness and regal bearing. She knew him better than that.

It was a further three days to Eryn Lasgalen proper.

Almost as soon as they were within the gates Gimli and Legolas were swept off in different directions. Gimli was taken to sumptuously appointed quarters filled with elven women. Here she was bathed in scented water—like swimming in a cup of tea—and groomed to within an inch of her life. It seemed as if the elves felt that by properly anointing her hair with oil or arranging her beard—a proper short feminine beard, even—they could render her less dwarvish. Sometimes she would catch a pinched look one of the attendant’s faces. 

Gimli allowed herself to be dressed in a bespoke silken gown of elven make, and looked down at it with a frown, plucking at the fabric. She’d gained more weight than she thought in the eight or so months since her last visit, particularly about the bosom. It was just enough to skew the lines of the dress, making it cling to her curves revealingly rather than swoop in a single line to the floor. The chief attendant frowned down at her.

“You mortals,” she said chidingly in thickly accented Westron. She gestured to the others, who began extricating Gimli from the too-tight silk. “You can’t keep the same measurements for even a season.”

“I put on a bit,” Gimli grumbled through the folds of cloth. “It’s not worth a production over.” Her mum would be pleased, actually- she always scolded Gimli for being too thin.

The chief attendant merely tsked softly and called for the seamstress. Gimli rolled her eyes- she’d had new gowns in this fashion almost every time they visited. 

Then it was standing about in her smallclothes while monstrously tall elves hovered over her with measuring devices and sheets of cloth. At least they were quick about it, producing a dress equal to dinner with her husband in perhaps an hour. The rest of her wardrobe would probably be done by bedtime. Gimli suspected they were hiding a dwarven sewing engine somewhere, which of course they would never admit to.

Finally, Gimli was dressed in a pale blue silk gown trimmed with lace. It left her freckled shoulders and cleavage bare, had ridiculous belled sleeves, left her nowhere to hide a blade, and skimmed her body in a single long, liquid line. She hated it. The attendants affixed a coronet to her curls, slid delicate slippers on her feet, and ejected her into the hall.

Legolas was leaning against the wall, reading a book bound in green leather. He looked up at her appearance, an amused smile quirking his mouth. He seemed perfectly at ease in his court finery of silk and linen robes in shades of green and grey, split to reveal trousers and fine leather boots underneath. He wore a coronet as well. Somehow the effect was of masculine grace rather than effeminate poncery. 

“Well met, my lady,” he said, eyes sparkling with fond humor. “Have you perchance encountered my lady wife in the women’s quarters?”

“Shut up,” Gimli grumbled, plucking at the fabric of the dress. “I feel like a trussed goose.”

“Perhaps, but you look lovely,” Legolas replied, taking her hand to press a light kiss on her knuckles. “Ready for dinner?”

“Ready for your father, you mean.”

Legolas secreted the book somewhere and tucked her hand in his elbow, leading her down the corridor. “He has improved, truly.”

“Not improved enough. I still haven’t forgiven him for that first meeting,” Gimli said, remembering the impertinent questions the Elvenking had asked his son, completely ignoring the seething dwarf before him. Naugrim, indeed.

Thranduil had arranged for an intimate family meal- meaning just the three of them. There were few things in Middle Earth Gimli found more taxing than spending any amount of time with her father-in-law. She suspected he knew this, and arranged these kinds of events just to watch her squirm.

Thranduil was already seated when they arrived at the small, intimate dining hall. The table was circular, with the Elvenking’s place directly across from theirs. 

“Na vedui, medol,” Thranduil said silkily as Legolas and Gimli were seated.

“Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn,” Legolas replied politely. Gimli only nodded. Her spoken Sindarin still made Legolas laugh; Mahal forbid she should subject herself to Thranduil’s scorn. 

Thranduil eyed Gimli for a moment, then switched to Westron with a begrudging sigh. “I trust your travels passed uneventfully.” 

“The wider world is generally safe,” Legolas answered. Gimli stared down at her empty plate. Five minutes and she was already bored stiff. Legolas’ hand found her knee under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze; he could detect her discomfort without looking, as always.

The idle chatter between father and son continued as servers poured out goblets of deep red wine and laid delicate little salads before each of them. Gimli didn’t much care for wine, but she’d need it to get through this farcical display. If it weren’t for Legolas she’d be belching and making a scene already.

Gimli took up her goblet and sipped it lightly. Immediately she made a face and let the liquid dribble back into the cup, which she set as far away from her as possible. It tasted more horrible than usual, like rotten vinegar. She wiped at her mouth, smacking her tongue to try and get rid of the taste.

Gimli looked up. Thranduil and Legolas were both staring at her, Legolas questioning and Thranduil openly aghast.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Think the wine’s spoiled.”

Thranduil huffed. Legolas delicately took up his own wine and sniffed it, then took a tiny sip. “It’s a mixed red, from the Pelennor,” he concluded. “It’s perfectly fine.”

“Alright, your elvish-ness,” Gimli grumbled quietly, but she glared at the wine like it had personally offended her. Thranduil sniffed and waved for one of the servers.

“Some water, please, for the dwarf.”

Gimli bristled, all but baring her teeth at the Elvenking. He met her glower with his usual blankness.

Legolas and Thranduil exchanged small talk through the salad course, then the soup, and the main course, which involved a tiny roast bird on a bed of wild rice. Gimli had to carefully pick over every bite lest she accidentally swallow one of the splinter-like bones, a task she bent her entire attention to rather than listen to the elves’ discussion of berries and spiders and things. 

Dinner dragged on for hours. By the end Gimli was in an even fouler mood, and she was still hungry. Thranduil and Legolas exchanged formal leave-taking phrases, and Gimli nodded brusquely at the elder elf. 

“You’re tetchy,” Legolas commented as they walked arm-in-arm back to their quarters. Hearing the dwarven term in Legolas’ mouth was enough to turn up the corner of Gimli’s mouth for a moment.

“I want my trousers back,” Gimli grumped. “And I’m still bloody hungry after all that- that bird food.”

“Is that all,” Legolas deadpanned, grinning when Gimli shot him a glare. “There’s no help for the trousers until the seamstresses bring them back,” he continued, “but I do believe I am stealthy enough to fetch something from the kitchens.”

“And I am not?”

“Not in that gown.”

Legolas delivered Gimli to their quarters and vanished again. It was a small set of rooms, a sitting area and bedroom, a small washing room. It was lit by intricate oil lanterns, giving a warmth to the spindly elvish architecture that was otherwise absent. Gimli went immediately to the bedroom, swearing faintly as she struggled to undo the fastenings on her gown. Some servant had set out fresh clothes on the bed- underthings and a frothy nightgown for her, loose shirt and trousers for Legolas. 

By the time Legolas returned Gimli had chucked the fresh things on the floor beside her abandoned gown and was sitting cross-legged and perfectly naked in the middle of the bed, manhandling her hair into a single long braid. Legolas kicked off his boots and dropped onto the mattress beside her, silently offering a massive honeyed pastry. Gimli tied off her hair and accepted the pastry eagerly.

“This is more the thing,” she said happily through a mouthful of flaky dough and dried fruit. 

Suddenly Legolas leaned over her and licked the side of her breast. “Oi!” Gimli cried.

Legolas looked up at her through his lashes, the very picture of innocence. “You dribbled some honey.”

“Of course,” she said dryly. “Any anywhere else?”

“I shall stay abreast of the situation.”

Gimli laughed, almost choking on her food, and Legolas grinned unrepentantly at her, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

Once Gimli finished the pastry, Legolas took her hand and licked all the glaze off her fingers, his tongue hot and slick on her skin. Gimli very quickly went from amusement to arousal, her breath catching as Legolas sucked the tip of a finger into his mouth, his eyes gazing boldly into her own.

“Terrible person,” Gimli mumbled.

Legolas released her finger with a faint ‘pop’. “I seem to remember finding you undressed, in my bed-“

Gimli shoved Legolas down into the bedclothes, straddling his waist and pinning his arms above his head. “Excuses.”

“How was I to resist the wiles of such a sylph?”

Gimli huffed, amused, and bent her head to lightly kiss Legolas. He wiggled his arms free—she let him escape easily—and grasped her thighs tightly, deepening the kiss. 

Gimli broke the kiss, applying her mouth to his ear. Legolas hummed, lazily arching his back as he enjoyed her attentions.

“Mmm… move up here, melethril,” he said huskily, sliding Gimli’s hips up his body. Gimli shifted accommodatingly, grasping the frail-looking headboard with both hands. She couldn’t quite hold in a gasp as Legolas pressed damp kisses into her inner thighs, one hand holding her up and the other lightly stroking the patch of red hair between her legs.

“Like what you see?” Gimli said, almost automatically. 

“Most assuredly,” Legolas replied, and then licked a strip up Gimli’s cunt.

Within a few minutes she was making high keening sounds, her grip on the headboard and Legolas’ hand on her arse the only things holding her up as she rutted almost desperately against Legolas’ face. When she finally climaxed—walls fluttering around the long, elven fingers stroking her inside—she all but collapsed. Legolas guided her to one side, letting her flop on the mattress as he smirked at her, face glossy with her juices. Gimli curled into his side, the aftershocks of her orgasm still making her belly flutter.

“Worth the dinner?” Legolas asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“If I can sleep now, sure,” Gimli muttered. The last sound she was fully aware of was Legolas’ soft chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Na vedui, medol: at last, welcome
> 
> Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn: A star shines on the hour of our meeting


	3. The Last Leg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimli works through some frustration, and they finally reach Erebor

Gimli’s clothing was returned two days later, washed and mended and smelling of elven perfumes. After that she refused to wear the elven dresses any longer, cherishing every pinched face and peeved “hmph” she encountered when she left their quarters.

Truthfully, however, Gimli did not venture out very often. The fact that the crown prince had taken a Naugrim to wife had ruffled more than a few feathers. The elves were polite but frigid, disdain lurking in every word and movement, and it always left Gimli with a hideous tension headache. Legolas did his best to stay in the quarters with her, having their meals delivered, but he could not escape his father that easily. 

They—or rather Legolas—had promised to stay for a week, and by day three Gimli was going stir-crazy, full of pent-up energy. 

“Are your folk always about at all hours?” Gimli grumbled late one night. Legolas, sitting in an armchair with a book in Sindarin, looked up at her questioningly. Gimli had flung herself across the bed and was staring at the rocky ceiling, too wound up to sleep but too twitchy to focus on anything in the room. 

“Generally,” Legolas said slowly. “You can go out into the city, meleth nin-“ 

“I can, but I certainly do not feel welcome,” Gimli grumbled. “I stole away their prince, why should I be.” 

Legolas set aside his book and sat at the end of the bed, leaning over Gimli to meet her eyes; she smiled despite herself at the sight of him upside-down, his loose hair a golden curtain in the lantern light. 

“My people should not treat you thus,” Legolas said with a faint scowl. “This is rightfully your home as much as it is mine.” 

“Well, it isn’t very homey.” Gimli sighed. “Don’t trouble yourself, really.” 

“I have every right to be troubled over you,” Legolas retorted. After a moment his face softened, and he brushed a stray wisp of hair away from Gimli’s face. “Is their aught I can do to help your current distress, at least?” 

Gimli huffed, giving the bed a hard _thwap _with both arms. “I need to move, to do something,” she admitted. “All this sitting around isn’t for me.”__

__“That, at least, is easily remedied,” Legolas said briskly. He sat back to allow Gimli to sit up, swinging her trouser-clad legs over the side of the bed. “The practice yards are always open, would you care for a sparring session?”_ _

__Gimli sat up with the first real interest she’d felt all day. “You could’ve said sooner. Of course I would.”_ _

__The practice yards were not too far distant from the royal quarters. Though it was the dead of night, there were elven warriors practicing their craft and maintaining their weapons there, the metal lit by torches and by the distant glimmer of starlight filtering down through cunning light shafts. Legolas was a warrior first, here, and the elves they encountered offered only nods of acknowledgment rather than the falderol that he would have met elsewhere. They barely seemed to notice Gimli, which suited her just fine._ _

__Legolas led the way to an unused sparring ring, the area marked out by inlays in the stone floor. “First blood?” he asked._ _

__Gimli snorted. “We’ll go at it ‘til one of us gives up.”_ _

__“Very well then.”_ _

__They stood opposite each other. Legolas drew his knives and gave them a twirl, warming up his wrists. Gimli brought her battle axe up, held crosswise across her body. Neither of them used guards on their blades._ _

__Legolas grinned fiercely, his teeth glinting in the low light. “At your leisure, then, my lady.”_ _

__Gimli surged forward with a wordless shout, blade aimed for the elf’s kidneys. He neatly danced away, turning aside the axe. Legolas struck out at shoulder height, Gimli blocked. Their weapons clashed together, sending vibrations up the axe._ _

__They were nearly matched for strength. Legolas had longer arms, but the long haft of Gimli’s axe countered that. Each had long familiarity with the other’s fighting style and abilities. Legolas was left with only a slight speed advantage, which he pressed. He managed to land a few blows with the flats of his blades- nothing that would have seriously injured Gimli anyway._ _

__Gimli, however, had a lower center of gravity. Legolas brought his blades down again and Gimli caught them on her axe, sidestepping so Legolas overbalanced. He would have recovered if Gimli hadn’t hooked her foot around his ankle, fast as a snake, and tripped him. He turned the fall into a roll and came up behind her, striking at her knees, but Gimli allowed her leathers to turn the blow and kicked._ _

__She misjudged, though, and got Legolas a heavy blow in the mouth. He didn’t cry out, but immediately withdrew, making a face and checking that none of his teeth were loose. Gimli let the butt of her axe hit the stone and rested her forearms on the top of it, leaning on it._ _

__“Had enough, your grace?” she snarked. Legolas looked back at her, eyes alight with mischief._ _

__“Only if you have, meleth nin,” he said sweetly, and then came at her again. Gimli had to dodge the strike and barely got her axe up to block the second._ _

__Legolas moved with incredible speed. Suddenly Gimli found it incredibly irritating, and rather than engage the incoming strike she took a heavy swing at his knees. The blade thwacked her chest just as Legolas’ legs went out from under him. She brought the blade to his neck, glaring down at him. Legolas only laughed._ _

__“Bloody elf,” Gimli grumbled, and offered a hand. Legolas took it and rose easily, sheathing his twin knives on his back._ _

__Gimli glanced around, noticing the elves trying to discretely observe their bout. A few seemed impressed, though they were one or two who scowled darkly. Gimli bared her teeth and they vanished into the shadows._ _

__“Had enough?” Legolas asked lightly, though his eyes were on the disgruntled elves, too, his shoulders tense._ _

__“Hardly, though you’re not the one I’d like a go at,” Gimli grumbled. She affixed her axe to her back, then wiped a fine sheen of sweat from her brow. “Let’s go before this lot gets any ideas.”_ _

__“All right.”_ _

__They returned to their rooms. Gimli finally slept, somewhat settled in body if not in spirit._ _

__

__*~*~*~*~*_ _

__

__The day of their departure came soon enough, and Gimli met it with relief, and a little guilt. Legolas would surely be just as uncomfortable among the dwarves of Erebor as she'd been in Eryn Lasgalen, but he never complained. Sometimes she wished he would._ _

__Gimli was all packed. Legolas had vanished off somewhere to bid goodbye to his elven friends. All that was left was to climb into her trusty travelling things, well mended or—as in the case of her poor woolen socks—entirely replaced by the elven seamstresses._ _

__Her woolen trousers in particular had been extensively patched. Gimli hummed a dwarven tune to herself as she dressed in the peace of their rooms, lacing up the front of her trousers as usual._ _

__Gimli paused and frowned. She’d have to do them up looser than she had a week ago. Either the elves had mucked up her clothes or she’d put on a bit, which was doubtful, elven food being what it was. Well, maybe she hadn't- mostly it was that having the trousers tight against her front was uncomfortable. She cursed faintly as she redid the laces- she’d probably got backed up again. Stupid bloody elven food, too rich by half._ _

__By the time Legolas returned and Gimli was fully dressed, she’d all but forgotten about it._ _

__

__*~*~*~*_ _

__

__The journey from Eryn Lasgalen to Erebor went quickly and easily, especially with the sight of the mountain ahead to encourage them forth. Frequent waystations, established to facilitate trade within the region, offered shelter from the chill at night as well as the occasional traveler to speak with. Hearing Khuzdul after a week among Thranduil's court was music to Gimli's ears._ _

__The road from Dale to Erebor was well-traveled, even this late in the season, and they were hardly the only ones entering Erebor that evening. The orange light burnished Legolas' hair and skin, highlighting the line of his ear; Gimli found herself contemplating ear cuff designs over the last half mile._ _

__Finally, they were over the bridge and into the grand entry hall. Gimli slid from their house unaided, a bubble of happiness in her chest. The hall smelled of animals and sweaty workers, with only the faintest hint of stone underneath; the sunset light mingled with lanterns, showing the controlled chaos of a trade center at work, the ceiling disappearing into shadow far above. They were barely within Erebor, but even here the mountain sang in her bones, vibrating up through her boots. The stone was smoothed by the passage of her kin over centuries, their memories almost a physical force. Gimli's eyes misted ever so slightly; she dashed away the moisture before anyone could notice. She was home._ _

__"Busy today," Legolas said idly, dismounting to stand beside her. He held both horses with a lead, more to establish belonging than to control the beasts. "We may be delayed in passing through inspections."_ _

__As he spoke, an officious-looking dwarf bearing a clipboard approached through the bustle, an inspector's badge on his breast. "You Gimli Gloinul?" he asked._ _

__"Aye. We're expected."_ _

__The inspector glanced through his sheaf of papers. "Three days late, but yes," he said. "Got any fungus, mushrooms on you?"_ _

__"Nah."_ _

__"Right, then you're expected to present yourselves to Himself. This time o' day it'll be the royal dining chambers. I'll have porters take yer beasts and send the luggage up." The inspector flagged down a pair of porters, one of whom took the horses' leads from a visibly reluctant Legolas. He'd grown attached over the past few months._ _

__"This way, your grace," the other porter said, gesturing expansively, and Gimli and Legolas were led into the heart of Erebor._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short this time, but the good stuff is starting next chapter!!!


	4. Guja

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimli calls on her grandmother, and learns something.

After a week in Erebor, Gimli was still incredibly happy to be home. Despite meetings with various administrators and nobles, she'd been in a marvelous mood ever since setting foot on Erebor stone. She'd reunited with friends and family and spent many happy hours reacquainting herself with the massive forges that constituted Erebor's heart. 

Today, Gimli walked with light feet to her grandmother’s apartments in the Dam’s Guild. Guja was by far her favorite relative, her acerbic view on life and crass sense of humor so very like Gimli’s. She’d been head of the guild, and had officially retired years ago, but she kept her rooms there and was consulted regularly. Gimli had needed to send notice and secure an appointment just to have tea with her own gran, the old bat was so busy.

Gimli nodded politely at the dams she passed in the halls, and quickly reached her grandmother’s apartments. She stepped inside without knocking.

“Hello, Gran- “

“Oh-ho-ho!” crowed the old dwarrowdam, sitting in a rocking chair with a massive pipe in one hand. Her hair and beard were silver streaked with gray, a lifetime written in the lines of her face, which was grinning happily at her granddaughter. “I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you and that elf bastard look at each other. Come give us a kiss, girl.”

Bewildered, Gimli crossed the room—a small but well-appointed sitting room—and gave her grandmother a quick buss on the cheek. “Knew what?”

The old dam’s eyes glimmered with wicked glee in the lanternlight. “You’d get up the duff, of course.”

“What?” Gimli was stunned, but also distantly wondered if Guja had finally gone senile. “I’m not, Gran, I can’t possibly- “

“Your tits are bigger, you center of gravity’s changed, your hips got wider and your gait is different,” Guja rattled off, gesturing with the pipe stem. She puffed hard on the pipe, giving Gimli a glare. “I’ve been midwifing for two bloody centuries, girl, don’t go telling me my business. You’re at least two moons along, probably more.”

Gimli sat down hard on a cushioned stool at Guja’s elbow. She felt cold all over with shock. “But- we can’t,” she said weakly. “A dwarf and an elf just… can’t.”

Guja snorted around her pipe. “A lapdog and a hound might look as different as anything, but they’ll whelp just the same. Thought you were smarter than that.”

“We’ve been together almost ten years,” Gimli said incredulously. She’d never won an argument with her gran before, but the disbelief--and the hope--was burning her up inside. “Why-“

“And you spent much of that traipsing across the world, so skinny your blood never came half the time,” Guja said flatly. She raised her overgrown eyebrows. “You never stayed still long enough before, I’d guess.”

Gimli’s tongue felt wooden. “Are you sure?”

Guja shifted in her chair. “I can have one of the other midwives examine you proper,” she offered. “I’d do it myself but this damned arthritis has buggered up my hands right proper.”

“Yes please.”

Guja eyed the younger dam. “You want this?” she asked bluntly. Gimli looked up, faintly surprised.

“What?”

“This’ll be dangerous,” Guja said flatly. She stabbed her pipe stem at Gimli to punctuate her words. “I know nothing about elvish pregnancy, anything could happen. Chances are the babe will be terrible big, if it even survives, which is not guaranteed. Never is, but this’ll be worse than usual. You carry this babe, you take your life in your hands.”

Gimli sat silently for a long, frozen moment. She couldn’t get her mind to contort enough to consider a world where it was even possible that she could carry Legolas’ child. It simply wouldn’t sink in.

Guja’s face softened. She reached over to pat Gimli on the knee with her knobby old hand. “I know it’s a great deal to consider,” Guja said gently. “Come back tomorrow after breakfast, I’ll have one of my girls look you over and you can decide then.” Gimli nodded slowly. That sounded good.

“You’re a bit upset for a proper visit today. Go and think things over, maybe have a chat with that handsome elf of yours. We can have tea another time, yes?”

“Mmhmm.” Gimli looked up at Guja. “I’m sorry, Gran. We’ll talk later, promise.”

Guja patted Gimli’s cheek, giving the younger dam a warm smile. “It’s fine. Go on.”

Gimli stood and gave Guja a rough hug, and then departed.

The long walk back to her quarters passed in a blur. She had to reorder her entire world. One of the basic assumptions of her marriage—that she and Legolas would never be able to have a child of their own—had been handily trammeled. She’d been perfectly happy that way, if only because she would trade any number of hypothetical children for the life she had found with him. 

Two months or more… that explained a lot, actually. That would mean that, if she were pregnant, it’d happened just after Legolas returned to Aglarond. They’d been at it like bunnies, the first few days.

Gimli shouldered her way through a busy intersection, dodging around miners and merchants. She suddenly realized she’d pressed a hand to her belly, as if to protect it, and fetched up against a wall, almost unable to breathe.

A baby.

Hers and Legolas’.

Six years or so after they’d married, as Gimli was staring at the ruddy stain of her menses come again, she’d finally accepted that they’d never have their own babe. The knowledge had sat in her gut like a stone for months. 

Gimli took in a breath, and it was like a bell had been rung in her breast. They could, they had… but that meant little, she knew. She could lose the babe at any time. And if not, then birth—especially of a mixed-blood child…this could kill her. Was it worth it to her… was it worth it to Legolas? She'd always known it would be dangerous, but he hadn't. Didn't.

Gimli was faintly surprised when she reached the door to their quarters. She hadn’t realized how long it had been. The sitting room was empty. Legolas was gone, off discussing plants or some such nonsense with some of the friends he’d made in Erebor.  
There was no fire to stoke, no scrubbing to be done, nothing to do with her hands, but she couldn’t bear to go back out into the mountain proper amongst all those other dwarves. She found some paper and pen and scribbled some jewelry designs, but couldn’t focus. Finally she took her hair out of its braids and sat combing scented oil through it, trying to sooth herself with the measured, repetitive motions. It helped somewhat. Even after her curls were perfectly smooth and glistening, she still sat on the chaise, combing and thinking. 

It seemed like an age of the earth passed before Legolas returned. He walked in humming to himself, his lute—a massive Elvish instrument in blond wood—in hand. He smiled broadly at seeing her on the chaise and began plucking out a melody on the lute, his fingers moving almost too quickly to follow. He sat beside her, nudging her with his hip to get her to scoot over a touch.

“You seem pleased with yourself,” Gimli observed dryly. She set her comb in her lap and watched Legolas’ playing.

“Who would not, to find such a luminous creature in their home,” Legolas replied cheekily. He changed melodies, to something Gimli thought she recognized.

“Long have I walked, long have I trod, to return again to your bosom broad,” Legolas began singing, and Gimli elbowed him so hard he almost fell off the chaise, laughing, the lute making an off-key twanging as it tumbled to the floor.

“A fine husband you are, plying me with a bawdy drinking song,” she blustered, though she couldn’t hide her smile.

“You mean to say that’s not a traditional love ballad of your people? I shall have words with Arvi,” Legolas said with a mock-scowl. He adjusted his seat on the chaise and retrieved the lute, strumming it experimentally. “What, then, shall I play for my lady?”

Gimli sighed heavily and laid her head against his arm. Her dark mood had not entirely fled, the weight of it pressing her down. “Maybe later?”

Legolas immediately set the lute aside, turning to face Gimli. “Are you well?”

Gimli let out a tiny, huffing laugh. “That’s up for debate.”

Legolas’ brow crinkled. “Has something happened? Now that I really look your color seems strange. I can call for tea-“ he made as if to stand. Gimli seized him by the upper arms, keeping him in place.

“I don’t need tea, _sanazyung _,” she said slowly. Gimli took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”__

__Legolas looked confused for half a moment, but then his jaw dropped and his eyes widened in the most perfectly comical expression of shock she’d ever seen on him. “Wh- you- how?” he babbled._ _

__“I only know of the one way,” Gimli said dryly._ _

__Legolas blinked several times and shook his head. “We had concluded it was impossible, _years _ago,” he said. “I do not understand how this could have happened.”____

____“All I can offer is that Eru has a terrible sense of humor.”_ _ _ _

____“Indeed,” Legolas muttered. “How-?”_ _ _ _

____“I went to visit my gran today, she about shouted it from the mountaintops soon as she saw me,” Gimli said, quirking her mouth at the memory of the old dam’s glee. “I’m going back tomorrow for a proper examination, but she seemed quite certain.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas stared at her blankly. Gimli let him have a moment to process, running her hands up and down the corded muscle of his arms._ _ _ _

____“Not to overwhelm you, but we will have some important decisions in the next few days,” Gimli said. Legolas still looked dazed, but his gaze met hers. “This will probably be dangerous for me.”_ _ _ _

____“I must confess that I know nothing of childbearing,” Legolas, beginning to shake off his shock but still very wide-eyed and pale, his porcelain skin all but translucent in the lamp-light._ _ _ _

____Gimli’s mouth quirked in a self-deprecating smile. “Nor I.”_ _ _ _

____Legolas gazed searchingly at her a moment, then sighed and leaned against the backrest, pulling Gimli on top of him. After a moment she settled against his chest, her cheek pressed against his sternum, his arms wrapped loosely about her._ _ _ _

____“ _Ci velethron e-guil nîn _,” he said against her hair. “We’ll be fine.”___ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______*~*~*~*~*~*_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gimli sank into the overstuffed armchair, hands knotted together in her lap, feeling unusually vulnerable. The words of Guja's midwife confirming the pregnancy seemed to echo in her mind, bouncing between her ears._ _ _ _ _ _

______Guja sat opposite, a cup of tea held in her gnarled hands. Legolas was at Gimli's elbow, perched on a stool somewhat too short for him. His hand lay, palm-up, on Gimli's armrest, a comfort offered but not insisted upon._ _ _ _ _ _

______Guja sighed. "Right then. Well, you're healthy enough, if a bit underweight. Of course the trouble comes in not knowing anything about elvish pregnancy. Legolas, my lad, could you arrange a consultation with a midwife out of Eryn Lasgalen?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Legolas frowned faintly, considering. "I'm not certain there are any dedicated midwives, as births are infrequent. And the distance, even by raven, does not allow an immediate response to any difficulties that may arise. It may be best to arrange for a healer to come here, to attend Gimli both during the pregnancy and for some time after."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Think your da would go in for that?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Legolas shrugged, making a helpless gesture. "He would not deny me, but finding a healer who would agree to spend a year in Erebor may be difficult."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gimli sat up slightly at that. "A year? Dwarves only carry for eight months."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Guja glanced at her sharply. "Dwarves, aye, but how long does an elvish babe remain in the womb? Once born, do they grow differently? What if the child acquires an elvish illness? The uncertainties here are far more than you may realize, my girl."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"I can't be laying about for a whole year," Gimli blurted. "What about Aglarond?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Guja drew herself up, wrinkled lips pressed into a narrow line. "Aglarond can bloody well get on without you," the old dam all but growled. "Even after birth, it'll be months before you're fit to travel to _Dale _, let alone halfway across Middle Earth. By then it'll be winter again, and you're not taking a wee babe out into a Rhovanian winter. Earliest you could travel back would spring after next, and even then it'll be hard and slow."___ _ _ _ _ _

________Legolas laid a consoling hand on Gimli's knee. "We can still see to things here," he said. "Arranging the supplies and recruiting willing colonists."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"And in any event," Guja continued, as if Legolas had not spoken, "all that only matters if you carry to term and don't lose the babe to some misfortune."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Gimli finally laid her hand on Legolas', clasping it tightly. The very thought of such 'misfortune' made her chest ache. She'd thought herself indifferent to motherhood, after all this time, but now that she had the chance she wanted it so badly it _burned _.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Guja eyed them for a moment, then nodded. "Right. Go home, you two. Adjust. The best thing you can do is carry on more or less as normal. If you get morning sickness or cravings, obey them- it's the babe telling you what it wants. Oh, and no heavy lifting or vigorous activity. Legolas, get a healer here quick as you can, for all your sakes." Guja set down her tea and stood, crossing to Gimli. She took Gimli's free hand in both of hers, patting the back of it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"You'll be all right, my girl," she said encouragingly. "I want you visiting me at least once a week, you hear?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Yes Gran," Gimli said automatically._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Guja sighed, patting her hand one last time, then dropped it. "Right then, I've other meetings to be going to. Out with you."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________A flurry of activity, and then Gimli and Legolas found themselves standing in the corridor outside the Dam's Guild, at somewhat of a loss. Legolas took Gimli in his arms; she tucked her face against his breastbone, listening to the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"A missive will be insufficient, especially for relating such news to my father," he said. His voice sounded deeper, reverberating through his chest to Gimli's ear. "Especially as we require a healer to attend you for such an extended period. I shall have to travel to Eryn Lasgalen personally."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Gimli leaned back just enough to look up into his face. "We're still mostly packed," she said. "I-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Legolas grasped her elbows gently. "You're not coming, _bereth nin _. You need to be near to Guja."___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Gimli huffed but didn't argue. She knew he was right, but she was not pleased about being left behind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"I'll miss you," she muttered into his shirt. "When will you go?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Tomorrow, provided I can secure provisions quickly enough."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Gimli stepped back, then took Legolas by the wrist and started pulling him down the hallway._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Where are we going?" Legolas asked mildly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Home," Gimli said fiercely. "If you're to go to the wood for a month, then I'll get my fill of you today."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Gimli-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Gimli whirled and gave him a dark glare. Legolas held his tongue until they returned to their rooms in the Palace Quarter, letting Gimli haul him about by the arm._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Once the door swung closed behind them, Legolas gently extricated his arm from Gimli's grasp. "Gimli, I have much to accomplish today."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"I don't care," Gimli said fiercely. "This- I can't-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Legolas cupped her bearded cheek in one hand; Gimli sighed heavily, leaning into his warmth. "Just stay with me for a while," Gimli said._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"For a while," Legolas agreed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Gimli took Legolas' hand in hers, this time tangling her fingers with his rather than dragging him about by the wrist. They went to the bedroom. Legolas perched on the edge of the bed, and Gimli started undoing her shoes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"You do remember what Guja said," Legolas said mildly, watching as Gimli dumped her shoes by the bed and began unlacing her trousers next. "No vigorous activity."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Gimli looked up to give Legolas a glare. "A week ago, we were sparring in Eryn Lasgalen. If that had no ill effects, neither will sex. Which I seem to recall happening a lot over the past few months."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Legolas flushed delicately but did not relent. "If we'd known, a week ago, that would not have happened. Simply because-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Gimli pressed a finger to Legolas' lips, pausing his lecture. He stopped talking but raised an eyebrow sardonically._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"You're going to be gone for at least a month," Gimli said slowly. "You're going to put your father's court in uproar, for one thing. For another, I'll be here, muddling through all this, by myself."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Gi-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Ah! Shush!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Legolas leaned back on his elbows, looking up at Gimli expectantly. "I know, but what would you have me do? I would not do you any harm, nor the child."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Gimli sat on the bed beside him. "You haven't. You won't," she said, running a hand up his muscled forearm. "Legolas, please." Gimli felt her throat tightening, and forced her words out through the sensation. "Help me remember that I'm not afraid."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Legolas looked up at her in surprise, then softened. He reached over to cover Gimli's hand with his own._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"If you feel even slightly uncomfortable-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________"Yes, yes, now shut up," Gimli said in a rush, then seized him by the collar and pulled him into a bruising kiss._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sanazyung: perfect love (khuzdul)
> 
> Ci velethron e-guil nîn: You are the love of my life (informal Sindarin)
> 
> bereth nin: my wife/spouse


	5. Back to the Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimli and Legolas have an unpleasant conversation. Thranduil is a total diva.

"Gimli." 

"Mmmggrphmmph..." 

"Gimli, I'm leaving." 

Gimli sat up at that, suddenly alert. She swept her hair back from her face, looking blearily up at Legolas in the light of a single dim gaslight. "Already?" 

"It is the third hour past dawn," Legolas replied, giving Gimli a crooked smile. "It's fine, you're tired." 

"It bloody well is not," Gimli grumbled. She threw the coverlet off her legs and stood. "You can't leave until I've done up your hair." 

"Gimli, really, I'd like to-" 

"Sit your arse down," Gimli all but growled. Legolas shut his mouth with a snap and sat on the stool before Gimli's dressing table. He perched awkwardly on it, his legs stretched out to compensate for the too-short seat. 

"It is dwarven custom for loved ones to do up a traveler's hair before departure, you dolt," Gimli said, and began undoing the leather thong that held together Legolas' customary fishtail braid. "I've done it every time you've gone off on your own and you won't stop me now." 

"Yes dear," Legolas said obediently. 

"Don't care what hour it is or how 'tired' I am, either," Gimli said. She took up a boar's hair brush and drew it through Legolas' silken hair, her touch far more gentle than her words. "It's bad luck, doing your own braids before a journey." 

"Of course," Legolas said, then sighed. "I only meant to let you have your rest." 

"Yes, yes, now hold still," Gimli replied, dividing the hank of hair in her hand into sections. She simply redid Legolas' half-up fishtail braid, though she did fasten the end with a silver clasp engraved with dwarven travel charms. Though rough and callused, her hands were quick and nimble, quickly taking up smaller sections of Legolas' remaining hair to put in other small braids. Mere decoration to elves, each had a specific meaning to dwarves. 

Despite Gimli's initial grouchiness, they soon fell into peaceful silence. This was a ritual they had done many times before, and each found the familiarity soothing in face of their current circumstances. The quiet was broken only by the sound of the brush moving through elven hair. 

Gimli fastened the last braid with a gold bead, then rested her hands on Legolas' shoulders. "You be safe, and quick," she said. Legolas turned on the stool, twisting to face her, and adjusted his legs to rest outside hers. 

"As quickly as I may," Legolas assured her, and took her hand in his own, pressing a brief kiss to Gimli's scarred knuckles. "Though I will have the greater weight of worry, I think. You never hinted this could be so dangerous, when we had discussed it before." 

Gimli sighed gustily and leaned against Legolas' shoulder; he put an arm around her waist, holding her close. "I worried you would not want to." 

"So you did hide it from me." 

"Yes, I did, alright? You're so protective of me, wary of anything that could cause even the slightest hurt. I've wanted my own children for a long time. I knew what it might cost me, and I accepted it." Gimli met her husband's gaze defiantly, almost daring him to rebuke her. 

"I don't know that I have," Legolas said. His jaw rippled as he clenched it, the only marker of tension he allowed to show. 

"We don't know that anything will go wrong." 

"Nor that it will go well," Legolas retorted. "You cannot expect me to simply accept that you have willfully risked your life for something that may never be." 

"Oi, watch it," Gimli snapped. "We both gave up on my conceiving more than four years ago. I'm no more at fault here than you, you great bastard." 

"Yes," Legolas snapped back. "But I certainly would have behaved differently at the outset if I had known what I know now." 

"Which is why I never told you!" 

Gimli's words rang against the stone walls of their chambers. They both glowered at each other, their earlier peace evaporated. 

Eventually Legolas shook his head and stood. "I have to go." 

Gimli stepped aside, watching mutely as Legolas gathered himself. She could hardly breathe, aching with the way his shoulders drew up, the unhappiness writ large across him. 

"Legolas." 

He looked at her. 

"I'm sorry. Truly." Gimli took a deep breath, fighting back an uncharacteristic surge of tears. "You're right. I should've said before and not kept it from you, it wasn't fair of me. Just-“ Gimli pressed the heel of her hand to her mouth to hold on a sob. She was getting terribly weepy all of a sudden. 

Legolas was there, suddenly, drawing her close. Gimli buried her face in his traveling cloak, clutching the familiar fabric and trying to swallow her emotions as he ran a hand up and down her spine. 

“I forgive you, meleth nin, and must beg your forgiveness also- I don't mean to be so short with you.” Legolas pulled back, cupped a hand under Gimli's chin to top her head back and meet his eyes. “I'm frightened for you,” he admitted. “I want this child, truly, but the thought that it could cost your life is almost unbearable.” He ducked his head slightly, looking shamefaced. “I cannot say that I would be able to survive it, if you died,” he said, voice breaking. “Even if there were a child to care for. It would break my heart.” 

Gimli thought hers might break at that admission. 

“Don't think on it,” Gimli said as fiercely as she could through a voice thickened by tears. “If we could survive the War of the Ring we can survive one silly little pregnancy.” 

Legolas looked uncertain, but he nodded slowly. He pressed a kiss to Gimli's forehead, making her breath hitch. 

“You should go,” Gimli said softly. “Day’s getting on.” 

Legolas took her face in his hands, his expression intense. “I'll send a raven upon my arrival,” he said. “After that I want a letter at least once a week. All right?” 

“Of course.” 

Legolas kissed her once more, and then he was gone. Gimli stood there in her nightshirt, bereft, pressing her knuckles to her face to try and force down all these stupid feelings. Eventually she went back to bed, buried her face in the pillows, and tried to sleep. 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Legolas departed Erebor with a heavy heart. 

Winter was bearing down quickly on the lands between Erebor and the Long Lake, with a bite to the air that had not been there a few days before. Like all elves, Legolas was indifferent to the chill. He was more concerned with what he left behind than what lay ahead. 

Legolas let the horse pick her own way down the river road, and did his level best not to panic. 

After a hasty, slapdash dwarven wedding beneath the trees in Ithilien, they’d spent their first year together helping to rebuild Minas Tirith. Gimli had asked him, their last night in the city, whether he’d ever given thought to having children. 

Legolas lay full-length on his belly in their borrowed bed, chin propped in one hand as he toyed with one of Gimli’s hair beads, the gold flashing in the warm light of a single candle that gilded his wife’s naked skin. “Not particularly,” he confessed, his gaze still on the bead. “Truthfully, I believed I would never find my mate, and that rendered the whole idea moot.” 

“What about now?” Gimli asked. She tugged the bead from Legolas’ fingers, prompting him to meet her eyes. Legolas shrugged. 

“I have had other matters to consume my attention in recent months. Why do you ask?” He rose up on his elbows in sudden alarm. “You’re not-?” 

Gimli huffed, amused. “No, you silly elf.” She tugged on Legolas’ elbow, pulling him back down into the pillows. “But we haven’t tried to stop it happening, have we?” 

Legolas slowly relaxed against the down pillows, worrying his bottom lip in his teeth. “Would you want to?” 

“I always thought I would, someday. When I found the right person.” 

“But is it even possible?” 

Gimli sat up at that. “How would anyone know?” she said fiercely, the candlelight gleaming in her hazel eyes. “Men and elves have born children together, why not us?” 

Legolas blinked at her sudden fervor. “You’ve thought about this.” 

“Of course.” 

Legolas mulled it over for a moment. He knew nothing of children, but could not deny that the thought was compelling. He imagined what it might be like—Gimli heavy with child—their babe at her breast—and his chest went tight. “It does seem a pleasant notion.” 

Gimli smiled faintly at him, uncharacteristically shy. “Really?” 

Legolas wove his fingers into her russet beard, pulling her into a brief kiss. “Really.” 

Back in the present, Legolas curled in on himself, because that warm, close moment in the pillows had led, inevitably, to- 

Gimli sitting in her wing-back chair before the hearth, hair a disaster, wrapped in the blanket she’d dragged from their bed. Legolas knelt beside her, aching to comfort her somehow but entirely ignorant as to how— 

“-the midwives say three years is normal, it’s been nearly twice that—” 

“Gimli, please,” Legolas said, through numb lips. “It hurts my heart, seeing you so despondent.” 

“I’m not despondent, I’m bloody furious,” Gimli said, though her tone gave lie to her words. “I can’t- why-“ 

“Gimli…” 

“The only thing I ever really wanted for myself,” Gimli said, and Legolas was horrified to see tears overflowing her eyes, running down her cheeks into her beard. “Why couldn’t we have this one thing.” 

Legolas had not known what to say then. It had been months before Gimli had been able to let it go, even longer before she was at peace with the loss of her—their—dream. Beginning the massive task of settling Aglarond in earnest had seemed to settle Gimli’s heart, give her another dream to strive for. 

And now—like lightning from a blue sky— 

Guja’s words had frightened Legolas more than he wanted to admit. He had always known that Gimli’s mortality meant their time together was someday end, but he was in no way prepared for that end to come so soon, and especially not in childbed. This was not a battle Gimli could wade into with whirling axe and bellowed battle cry. It was not even a battle Legolas could really help her in. He could only hope that an elven healer would know how to help, how to keep his wife alive through the trials ahead- 

Legolas urged the horse into a trot. 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Thranduil lounged in his high throne, inspecting the finish on his boots. Maybe he should have some made in a different shade of chestnut- 

One of his guards approached, pausing at the bottom stair to give a perfunctory bow. "My liege," he said, "your son has arrived." 

Thranduil gestured vaguely with one long-fingered hand. "Send him in, then," he said lazily, though his mind was sharply at attention. 

Legolas had been gone less than a fortnight. He'd practically dropped the dwarf at the doorstop and run straight back home. Only some calamity could have prompted such action, especially with the terse raven-borne missive he'd sent- "I am returning to the wood immediately on a personal matter of much urgency." Not even a signature! Before the dwarf Legolas never would have been so informal in his correspondence. 

Legolas stepped through the archway. He was still dusty from the road, crushed lichen clinging to his boots. Thranduil was appalled. The absurd child hadn't even stopped to wash. 

"Legolas," Thranduil called out languidly. "Whatever your personally urgent matter is, surely it allows time for basic cleanliness." 

Legolas mutely walked to the base of the throne and bowed, arms and back rigidly straight. "Father," he said flatly, and then kept his silence. 

Thranduil let the pregnant moment stretch out as long as he could stand, watching Legolas for any sign of discomfort. Finally he sighed gustily and stood, flinging his cloak to the side as he glided down the steps. 

"Fine, I will engage you in your little game, as it appears that this 'personal matter' is so urgent as to prevent your using the boot-scraper at the door. Honestly, child." 

"Father," Legolas said quietly as Thranduil approached. "I wonder if I might beg your indulgence for a private audience." 

"Well, your good manners have not entirely abandoned you." Now at ground level, Thranduil eyed Legolas critically. He looked not only dirty but careworn, emotional fraught. Thranduil raised an eyebrow. Legolas kept his eyes on the floor. 

"My private chambers, then. I trust you remember the way." Thranduil set off without seeing if Legolas followed, confident that he would. 

The entire journey, both elves were quiet. Thranduil was of course burning up with curiousity but would not be so gauche as to try and pry the matter out of his son in public. He may or may not have sped his feet, however. 

The instant the door to Thranduil's apartments closed he whirled on his son. "Whatever is this urgent matter, then?" he demanded. "Your behavior thus has been utterly appalling, I can only hope you come bearing news of a new plague." 

"Gimli is pregnant." 

"My felicitations," Thranduil said automatically. He blinked. Legolas cocked an eyebrow, a ghost of amusement quirking his mouth. 

Thranduil groped for a chair and collapsed into the closest at hand, his robes tangling about his knees. "Naturalists the world over shall be ecstatic, I'm sure," he said. 

"You grasp the nature of my errand, then?" 

"I do not. Surely any dwarven midwife can fix the problem." 

Legolas sat across from his father, his jaw tight. "Father, please." 

Thranduil rubbed his forehead. "You mean to tell me you are carrying out this, to be frank, _terrible _idea? Legolas, really. I thought you fond of the dwarf. What are you hoping to accomplish?"__

__"Gimli's midwife bade me fetch back a healer of our people," Legolas said. "She'll need close watching, for the next year or so. I thought I could depend on my father for help in seeing to the health of his kin."_ _

__Thranduil folded his hands in his lap, regarding Legolas. The younger elf almost thrummed with tension, sitting up painfully straight in his chair. "Appealing to my better nature? I thought you knew by now that I haven't got one."_ _

__"Father."_ _

__"Can I not have a moment to digest?" Thranduil cried, flinging his hands about. "My son, prince of Eryn Lasgalen, has not only bound himself to a dwarf but got a child on her. Every passing year you prove how utterly un-elven you have made yourself. Truly, I am appalled."_ _

__Legolas appeared to be forcibly restraining himself from rolling his eyes, as if he were a smarmy adolescent instead of an adult well into his second millennia. He rose and gave his father a cursory bow._ _

__"I shall leave you to your digestion, Father, and attempt to make myself less appalling," Legolas said dryly._ _

__"Send for wine," was Thranduil's only reply._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meleth nin: my love


	6. Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Gimli or Legolas are dealing with being apart well, all things considering.

Legolas watched the sun rise. 

Two days Thranduil had been shut up in his private apartments, refusing entry to all except servants bearing refreshment. The business of the kingdom was either delayed or passed off to his advisors; the king, it seemed, had better things to do. 

Legolas, meanwhile, swallowed his bitterness and watched as the forest awakened around him, perched on the limb of a winter-stripped tree. The animals went about their daily business, unaffected by the crises of elves. 

"How long do you intend to remain aloft, my prince?" 

Legolas glanced down, his heart suddenly lightened. "No longer now I have you to cheer me," he declared, sliding off the branch and easily dropping the fifteen feet to the ground. Immediately he extended his hand, and Tauriel took it in a brief warrior's clasp. 

"You were absent, last I visited," Legolas said. Tauriel smiled; she looked well.

"I took the outer patrol, unknowing of your arrival. In fact I have only returned tonight, and heard a great many rumors." Tauriel gestured into the woods. "Walk and speak with me?" 

"Nothing would please me more." There was no path, but they easily picked their way among the trees and the sparse, naked underbrush. The silence was easy, companionable, without judgement or rebuke- something Legolas missed among his people, and he knew Tauriel had missed for far longer than he. 

Eventually Tauriel spoke, her warm voice rippling across the chilled air. "There are those who say you have abandoned your dwarf, you know." 

"They've been saying that for a decade and it hasn't happened yet," Legolas said dismissively. "It is on Gimli's behalf that I have returned so quickly. 

"Few things indeed could bring your father to such ire-" 

"Gimli is pregnant, and I seek a healer to tarry in the mountain until after the birth." 

Tauriel stopped cold, astonished. "I had heard that too, but- truly?" 

Legolas' mouth quirked. "Would I lie about something of such import?" 

"Of course not," Tauriel replied automatically. She blinked large hazel eyes up at him, astonished. "It is widely believed that the Second Born cannot breed with other races," she said. "They are too singular a species." 

"Evidently not." 

"Is this why the king has removed himself?" 

Legolas nodded, beginning to walk again; Tauriel followed, their steps falling into unison. "He is most displeased. He tolerates Gimli for my sake, but apparently a child is a step beyond." 

"He is nigh-immovable in his prejudices, this is long known," Tauriel said matter-of-factly. "Have you sought a healer yourself?" Legolas sighed, ducking to avoid a low-hanging branch, the twigs tugging at his hair—still ornamented with dwarven beads, though becoming a bit bedraggled. "No, none will come without the king's permission. None may come regardless. Many still recall the cost in elven lives of reclaiming the mountain and hold it bitterly in their hearts." 

"Yes," Tauriel said faintly. Legolas glanced at her face to find her gaze distant, her hands twisting together. She had never begrudged him his happiness with Gimli, but sometimes...she would remember. 

"You would be welcome, you know." 

Tauriel looked up, startled from her reverie. She let out a bark of harsh laughter. "By you, and Gimli, but not by anyone else. In any case I can hardly bear to look upon the mountain, let alone set foot inside it. The pain is too great." 

"Even so, you should know that you are not forgotten," Legolas said softly. Tauriel smiled. 

"I know. I wish you every joy, _mellon nin _. For my part, I will fulfill my duties here, and someday..." She shrugged. "I have reason to await the Second Song with gladness."__

__

__*~*~*~*_ _

__

__The next day, Thranduil sent for Legolas._ _

__Legolas stood just inside the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, all but standing at attention. He had very rarely been in his father's private rooms, even as a small child; being here now left him feeling off balance. They were large, elegant, well appointed- the dwelling of a king. Legolas privately thought the room seemed a bit sterile. No ornaments or mementos, nothing personal- just bare elegance._ _

__Thranduil lounged on a gilt-upholstered chaise, wearing little more than a dressing gown, a glass of wine in one hand. He waved Legolas forward- something about the movement made Legolas suspect he'd had many, many glasses. "There you are. Come closer, I shan't shout all the way across the room."_ _

__Legolas approached, tense, and stopped just out of arm's reach. Thranduil raised an eyebrow but otherwise made no comment._ _

__"I have considered your dilemma," he said slowly. "As you have refused to take the sensible route, I must concede to your request. If you can find a healer with experience in childbearing and convince them to accompany you, you are welcome to them. But no children have been born here in centuries, and those who recall the way of it will probably deny you. I offer you the only thing I can in your search- good luck."_ _

__Legolas blinked. "Is that all?"_ _

__Thranduil snorted. "What else do you want? A ringing endorsement of your perversion? My blessing on the poor creature you insist on bringing in the world?"_ _

__Legolas ground his teeth, jaw twitching. "I had hoped," he said slowly, "you might be pleased to have a grandchild."_ _

__Thranduil sat up suddenly, sloshing wine onto the upholstery. "Consider yourself blessed I did not disown you ten years ago!" he bellowed._ _

__Thranduil's words faded into ringing silence. Legolas flexed his fingers by his sides. Their relationship had always been fraught, but the last decade had seen it tense beyond imagining. Perhaps now they were breaking._ _

__"By your leave," Legolas said, and walked away._ _

__

__*~*~*~*_ _

__

__Gimli shuffled the piles of paperwork about, searching for a particular order form. She'd sent to the Scribing and Mining guilds for assistants, but they hadn't replied yet; she would have to get through the Aglarond paperwork mess alone for now._ _

__Gimli had moved back into her old office in the palace complex, a relatively spacious room carved out of the granite of the mountain. It was lined with hulking filing cabinets and supply cupboards, a heavy-legged desk occupying the center. Gimli had her own seat, and there was an extra for visitors, but typically she would only see Legolas or various pages. The knock at her half-open door was very unexpected._ _

__Gimli looked up. "Yes?"_ _

__A dark-haired dwarrowdam, her hair in loose curls held back with a diadem, stepped in. Gimli let her paperwork flutter to the desk and stood up, delighted._ _

__"Maala! Come in, I haven't seen you in ages," Gimli said happily. She stepped out from behind the desk to offer her friend a head-butt; Maala reciprocated with a grin._ _

__"You're so busy these days, it figures I'd have to track you down myself," Maala said. "And the rumors! Since your elf rode off you've been the talk of the mountain."_ _

__"Aren't I always?" Gimli said dryly. "Please, sit. Tea? Ale?"_ _

__"Ale, and a bite, if you could," Maala said, and settled herself into the visitor chair. She had a sling made of grey linen across her front and adjusted it carefully as she sat. Gimli went behind the desk to pull the bell-rope and bring her own chair around the front._ _

__"What is that, then?" Gimli asked as she sat._ _

__Maala grinned and worked the edge of the sling down; Gimli gasped despite herself. A babe, maybe three months old, was tucked against Maala's bosom, sleeping. Dark-haired, wearing green linens- a boy._ _

__"Oh, Maala, I didn't even know you were expecting!"_ _

__"Didn't want to jinx it," Maala said comfortably. She flipped the edge of the sling back up, keeping out the light. "A raven to Aglarond is still damned expensive, so here we are."_ _

__An aid came in, bearing refreshments, and set the tray on Gimli's desk as the dams chatted. Gimli had met Maala some years before when seeking some information about faceting jewels and had been friends since. Maala was a master in the Jeweller's Guild—thus the diadem—and, importantly, had no problem whatsoever with Gimli's choice of spouse._ _

__"I expect you went through the Dam's Guild, then," Gimli said, handing her friend a mug of ale. Maala nodded._ _

__"Of course. I wanted a child, not a- a mate, or what have you," Maala said, making a face. Maala was one of those dwarves with no interest in romance or sex of any kind, more devoted to her craft than anything else._ _

__"What's his name?"_ _

__"Bόfi, for my father," Maala said. She patted the baby through the sling. "He's a good lad so far."_ _

__"He's barely old enough to hold his head up," Gimli said dryly. "How much trouble could he cause?"_ _

__"You'd be surprised."_ _

__They fell into companionable silence, working their way through the bread, cheese, and jam on the tray. Gimli felt her news pressing on her—she hadn't told anyone yet—and well, why not?_ _

__Gimli set her mug down. "I'm pregnant."_ _

__Maala's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really!" she said. "Congratulations!"_ _

__"Really?"_ _

__Maala pursed her lips slightly. "Yes of course. Unless you don't want to be congratulated?"_ _

__"No, I do, but carrying a half-elf child is definitely outside the social norm," Gimli said deprecatingly._ _

__Maala snorted. "You've been outside the social norm for ten years and it never bothered you."_ _

__"It seems to bother everyone else," Gimli replied dryly. "Even if they keep their traps shut, you can see it in their eyes." She set down her mug on the tray with a faint clunk. "I've been a bit tetchy, though," she admitted slowly. "There aren't many in Erebor who gladly accept my husband, and it worries me, bringing a child into that."_ _

__Maala reached over and patted Gimli's knee. "You've hardly been in Erebor longer than six months since the war," she said. "And everything I've heard about Aglarond is very promising. Erebor may be unwelcoming, but you can make your own society, that welcomes everybody, no matter how pointy their ears."_ _

__Gimli laughed. "Aye, I can. But enough of that- when can I hold your wee one?"_ _

__

__*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ _

__Gimli rubbed the cloth between her fingers, feeling its thickness and quality. Beside her, Maala shifted Bόfi in his sling, eliciting a high-pitched squeal of protest._ _

__“This one is all right,” Maala said, showing Gimli a light green wool. Gimli rubbed this cloth too._ _

__“For a tunic, maybe. It’s a bit plain.”_ _

__“Hmm.” Maala dropped the fabric and followed Gimli as she wandered farther along the table. The dull roar of the textile district surrounded them, the shouts of snack food vendors occasionally rising above the noise._ _

__Gimli scrutinized a blue linen. It had been two weeks since Legolas left, and she had felt his absence keenly for every moment of it; quite a difference from their separation over the summer. This morning she’d awoken to find that her trousers absolutely would not fasten without extreme modification, and her tunics had all become embarrassingly tight across the bust. She’d gone to Maala in desperation. Maala had listened to Gimli’s entire tale without comment, and then briskly herded her down to the textile district to begin selecting fabric for a new wardrobe._ _

__“Most of this stuff is plain, the embroidery comes after making of the garment,” Maala said. “Bόfi, shhh, _ghivashel _,” Maala said, patting the baby's bottom thru the sling as he began fussing faintly.___ _

____“Yes, but what sort of garment?” Gimli asked, faintly exasperated. “I’ll not wear a great sack like an old bag—”_ _ _ _

____“Believe me, you’ll be happy to wear a sack if it’s comfortable,” Maala interrupted dryly. “Looks are not as important as comfort. In fact, maybe we should look at the silks.” She started bouncing slightly, Bόfi making soft baby noises._ _ _ _

____“Silks? For things I’ll hardly get any wear out of?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s worth it,” Maala said firmly, nodding her dark-haired head. "At least for your underthings. I know I couldn't abide anything the faintest bit rough on my skin, especially in the later months. No I couldn't, _leanbh _," she added, giving Bόfi a little pat. The baby was starting to fall asleep, his pudgy fist stuffed in his mouth.___ _ _ _

______The silks were a few booths down. In the second one Gimli found a thick undyed silk, smooth to the touch. She took the entire bolt up in her arms and turned to speak with the proprietor._ _ _ _ _ _

______The booth was being minded by a graybeard dwarf, dressed in a colorful array of silks, positively dripping with gold jewelry. He scowled heavily, crossing his arms across his broad chest._ _ _ _ _ _

______"How much for four arm-spans?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______The dwarf chewed on the edge of his beard. "Not sellin'," he said gruffly. Gimli's eyebrows shot up._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Is it reserved for someone?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______The dwarf huffed. "I won't see my wares on the back of a _gurnvos'comys _, no matter how much you offer me."___ _ _ _ _ _

________Gimli recoiled, the silk slipping from her hands to fall with a thump to the stone floor. She turned and walked away._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It was a few minutes before Maala caught up with her, puffing slightly. "That _rukhs shirumund caragu _!" she swore. "You'd best send a message to his guildmaster, or I will. The very cheek!"___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"It's fine," Gimli said tonelessly. "I think I'll just go home."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Gimli-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Gimli whirled on her, eyes ablaze. "What?" she barked. "I'm angry, but no one will take my side, because I _am _a _gurnvos'comys _," she spat. Her eyes overflowed with angry tears and she roughly rubbed them away. "And's he's simply amazing, not that these- these-" she spluttered, unable to come up with an insult foul enough, practically catatonic with inexpressible rage._____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Maala gently grasped her elbow. "I'll walk you home, _mizimith _," she said softly. Gimli leaned into her, at once angry that she was so emotional and grateful for the support. Together they left the market, the buzz of commerce fading behind them.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"I want my husband," Gimli said miserably._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________*~*~*_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Time dragged by slowly for Gimli, punctuated by weekly letters from Legolas. They were terribly vague and frustratingly spare on news, mostly a short note to assure her that she was not forgotten, that she still had his heart. As if that was in any doubt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Gimli didn't tell her parents, didn't tell anyone about the baby- she did paperwork, saw Guja, saw Maala. She commissioned new clothing from the Sewer's Guild and chose fabrics from their supply, rather than go back out into the market alone. In the evenings, when she curled up alone in their overlarge, empty bed, she'd sometimes sketch jewelry ideas. Beads for Legolas' hair, mostly, or for the baby's-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Their rooms were terribly, terribly silent._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghivashel: treasure of treasures 
> 
> Leanbh: baby 
> 
> Gurnvos'comys: tree-humper, colloquially meant to be one who breeds with elves 
> 
> Rukhs shirumind caragu: beardless orc dung 
> 
> Mizimith- jewel that is young; equivalent to 'sweetheart'


End file.
